


perspective

by naktoms



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: M/M, Multi, Rated T for language mostly, shows up to hamilton fandom 15 mins late w starbucks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-19
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-09-25 12:29:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9820616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naktoms/pseuds/naktoms
Summary: One relationship, from three different points of view.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bucketfulloffandom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bucketfulloffandom/gifts).



> :^)
> 
> me and [cindy](http://archiveofourown.org/users/naktoms) have stayed up until 5 am about three times this past week just . talking about charles lee. and his boyfriends. and it's good content, so here's some of it
> 
> so! kudos + comments r appreciated, and i hope u enjoy!!!!

John five years ago: sad, alone, eating Doritos in his dorm room, living in dirty-laundry-squalor.

John now: moderately not sad, definitely not alone, with the stench of burnt popcorn in his nose as he listens to his two (not one, _two_ ) boyfriends argue over who burnt it.

“John told you to do it!” Samuel cries, voice high, the way he gets when he’s irritated.

“I told you I was going to go piss!” Charles retaliates. There’s the sound of a struggle. John thinks someone might have thrown the popcorn bag. When he looks behind him, peeking over the back of the couch, he sees popcorn strung on the floor and Samuel’s bottom lip between Charles’ teeth.

“You better sweep that up,” John calls, turning his attention back to the trailers playing before the movie.

“Fuck off,” Charles replies.

 

Once upon a time, it was just John and Charles. They went to college together (Charles dropped out, John graduated with honors) and sort of fell off from friends to friends with benefits to something resembling a relationship. After college, they got an apartment, and they got jobs. Charles worked at the local supermarket, first, before he got fired for screaming at old ladies. Then he worked at a department store uptown, before he got fired for screaming at “those damn millennials”. _Then_ he worked at another department store, the management of which quickly learned that Charles works best when he is slapped in the back of the store among unopened boxes and empty pallets.

At said department store, they had an overhaul of their computer system, and an assistant shift manager with absolutely no clue how to operate it. In Charles’ words, he ‘took pity’ and spent the rest of his shift coaching said manager through the new system. Then came home and immediately announced to John that he’s going to bang the assistant shift manager.

“Cool,” John had said, not bothering to look up from his phone.

It was a topic that hadn’t been broached-- there hadn’t been a need to before then. A more in depth conversation introduced the stipulation of _well, I’ve got to meet him before you start banging him_ \-- so then John met Samuel Seabury, and he _gets it_. Freckled face, big-framed glasses, tawny hair. Nervous air about him, fidgeting all the time, a permanent blush on his face as he speaks to John.

Yeah, he totally gets it.

So. Seventy awkward conversations later, dinners ending in Charles and John kissing either of Samuel’s cheeks, fretting and hesitating, Samuel moves in with them. And moves with them to the suburb they currently live in. And now he’s the only thing that keeps them from eating potato chips for dinner every night, the only thing keeping their sleep schedules on time, the only thing keeping any of them sane.

Sometimes John muses, _what did we ever do without Sam_ , and Charles’ answer is usually something like _we fucked on every surface of the house_. But, in truth, John can’t really remember.

 

Charles five years ago: asking around for some free weed, very pointedly ignoring his homework, wearing eyeliner just a little too dark.

Charles now: looking for those damn cookies John bought at the store, listening to his phone ding with each new irritated text from his boss, wearing eye bags just a little too dark.

“What’re you after?” Samuel asks behind him, quiet.

“Damn cookies,” Charles offers in response. Samuel opens the cabinet above Charles’ head. “Thanks,” Charles mumbles, taking the unopened package out of the cabinet and tearing the label open. He takes two cookies out, puts the package away, and offers one to Samuel.

Samuel takes it from him with a small smile, and Charles is struck, then, by how shy Samuel still seems to be around him. He would be a little annoyed by it, but he is similar in a different way-- he cannot stand the tension when someone in this house is mad at someone else, anxiety through the roof, voices in the back of his head shouting _happy times are over, you weren’t enough, congratulations!_

“Thank you,” Samuel says, a few seconds delayed. He turns to leave, probably headed back for his own room. Charles drags a hand down his face, then shoves his cookie into his mouth.

 

Charles fell in love with John and Samuel for the same reasons: they both care about him. (And it’s probably sad, by some standard, that Charles’ type is “doesn’t hit me, doesn’t shout at me, doesn’t use me and kick me out of their house afterwards”.)

They care in different ways, but they certainly do care. John cares by giving Charles space, by holding his hand palm up and waiting for Charles to take it. Always waiting, always patient, but never hesitating to pepper kisses all over Charles’ face when Charles makes the step to meet him halfway. Samuel cares by making sure that Charles eats, combing his hair when he forgets, setting reminders so Charles will make sure to get out of bed, go to work, go to this appointment or this event. And he is shy, but he is more apt to run his hand along Charles’ shoulders as he walks past, more apt to ask how his day was.

So. Maybe that’s his type, the standards he holds his lovers to, but it’s more than enough for him. Just a cup of coffee in the morning is more than enough for him.

 

Samuel five years ago: tugged in seventy different directions, endless lectures about plans for his life, careers, universities, nice girls down the street he could marry.

Samuel now: heading towards promotion (hey, shift manager is good money), with a useless diploma hanging on his wall and two nice boys that he, realistically, will never marry, but that he does get to love.

He still works with Charles, and today John has brought lunch over. Samuel grins when he sees the Subway bag in John’s hand, feeling fondness warm in his chest when he recalls that John has their orders memorized for just about every regional restaurant.

“Hey,” Samuel says, leaning into John when John wraps an arm around his shoulders. Charles reluctantly slots himself against John as well, making a face when John squeezes both of them.

“Your savior is here, to banish hunger from the lands,” John says very matter-of-factly, making a half-hearted gesture with the arm still around Charles. Samuel chuckles; Charles groans.

They eat together in the little time Samuel and Charles have for their lunch break. John and Charles have that conversation about getting a cat again. Samuel still wants a dog, and Charles still tells him to shut up, _we’re not getting a dog_.

 

Samuel still remembers his all-consuming trepidation at meeting John. He swears he almost blacked out when Charles, after all his weeks of not-so-subtle flirting, told him that he actually already had a boyfriend.

“I told him I was totally gonna bang the assistant shift manager,” Charles had said, nonchalant, unbothered. “So he said _cool_ and told me he had to meet you first.”

Samuel hadn’t known what to say. Charles took his silence as acquiescence, so he texted Samuel a couple days later asking if he was free. Samuel decided to give it a shot-- if nothing else, he gains a couple friends.

John is charismatic, charming, and looks at Charles like he hung the moon. Samuel feels like he’s intruding on something private, like it should be John and Charles on a date by themselves, but then John turns that adoring gaze on him and it doesn’t change and-- ah.

Samuel likes them both, and maybe goes through a slight existential crisis as a result. But, after the crisis, he says _yes_.

Samuel wakes up earlier than both of them, but he’s always hard pressed to get out of bed, wedged between the two he loves more than anything, John’s face tucked in his neck and Charles’ arm thrown across his stomach. But, after all, it is his duty to keep them fed, so he gets up anyway to make something for breakfast.

And, really, Samuel has never felt more appreciated outside of this house, because pats on the back for a job well done at work or at school isn’t anything compared to the overdramatic way John gushes about his pancakes or the way Charles swears that Samuel’s figured out the answer to life with his cooking.

So Samuel grins, and he splits the last pancake between them.


End file.
